


Listening to Frogs

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harrison makes a mistake and Paul helps him fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listening to Frogs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #4 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"But she didn't think it was too funny."_

 

          Debi eased into Ironhorse's office as quietly as she could.  Leaving the door open behind her, she proceeded to the bookcases and carefully returned the book the colonel had lent her to the empty space it had occupied.  When she'd asked at breakfast, he'd told her she could pick out another book to read if she wanted to.  The girl now took the opportunity to not only look at the titles, but at the mementos that also sat scattered across the shelves.  Most of the objects were Native American artifacts, and Debi paused at each one, staring intently.

          Not wanting to be caught ogling items, she also scanned the books and finally chose another to explore.  Turning, Debi paused, glancing at the ghost shirt displayed on the colonel's wall.  She risked a quick glance over her shoulder.  Harrison was in his office, but he looked busy.  She stepped closer to the shirt and reached out, her fingers lightly brushing the decorated leather.

          "Greetings," came a soft, somewhat distorted masculine voice.

          Debi sucked in a breath and quickly stepped back, then scanned the room.  It was empty.

          "I will not harm you," continued the soft voice.

          "Who— Who are you?" Debi whispered, not sure if she should be afraid or not.

          "I am the spirit of the shirt.  Come closer."

          Debi took a hesitant step forward.  "How— How can you talk?"

          "Excuse me?"

          Debi spun around to find Ironhorse regarding her with a confused expression on his face.  "Huh…" she hedged.

          "Deb?"

          She bolted from the room, pausing in her sprint toward the stairs when she noticed Blackwood leaning against his desk.  In his hand was a small microphone.  He was smiling.

          "Deb—"  Harrison started, but she turned angrily and stormed up to her room.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse sat at the dining room table and tried to concentrate on his rapidly cooling pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy.  Directly across from him Debi glared daggers at the man seated next to the Special Forces officer, one Harrison Blackwood.  Next to her daughter, and directly across from Blackwood, Suzanne matched the eleven-year-old dagger for dagger.  Even Norton Drake, perpetual optimist and Blackwood's long time friend, looked irked with the astrophysicist.

          Ironhorse forced in another mouthful of Mrs. Pennyworth's masterpiece.  She, at least, smiled, but it was hard to carry on a conversation when there was enough tension around the table to fuel a good sized military coup.  Blackwood shifted uncomfortably in his chair, blue eyes catching Ironhorse's black for a split second.

          What the colonel saw reflected back surprised him.  Blackwood was asking for his intervention!  Whatever had made the rest of them so mad must have been good, he thought.  Ironhorse's lips pursed together in an attempt not to turn upward in to a smile.  Three months had passed since he'd been placed in charge of the security for the Blackwood Project, and during that time the one member of the merry civilian band to make regular friendly overtures to him was the youngster seated across the table – a place she'd staked out the first night and refused to relinquish.  If Debi was mad at Blackwood, the man no doubt deserved it.

          "Pass the broccoli, please," Blackwood asked quietly.

          Ironhorse paused a beat, waiting to see if anyone would carry out the request, and when they didn't, reached over and snagged the bowl, handing it to the scientist.

          "Thanks," was the mumbled, despondent payment for the colonel's efforts.

          Okay, Ironhorse thought, this is getting out of hand.  We can't fight aliens if we're fighting ourselves like this.  Wiping his napkin across his mouth, the colonel decided he'd explore the situation and find out just what had turned the Cottage's residents against their in-house nutcase.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Norton's fingers roamed across the computer keyboard in time with the music Ironhorse could hear drifting past the man's headphones.  Pausing alongside the genius hacker the colonel cleared his throat and waited for a response.  When none came, he tapped the man on the shoulder, eliciting a startled jump and half-caught expletive.

          "Colonel, don't you know not to interrupt creative genius when it's at work?"

          "Excuse me, Mr. Drake, but there's something I wanted to discuss with you," Ironhorse said, leaning back against the work station and folding his arms across his chest.

          Norton stopped the tape and removed the earplugs.  "And what's that?" he asked suspiciously.

          "Blackwood," was the right-to-the-point reply.  "I noticed he's having a PR problem around here."

          Leaning back, Drake snorted.  "That's about the sum of it, Colonel.  Why do you ask?"

"Mr. Drake, we have a job to do, and fighting aliens is a fulltime commitment.  Whatever's going on is disrupting the integrity of this group and that's not productive."

          Norton considered the colonel's words, and finally nodded.  "You're probably right.  I mean, it normally wouldn't have bugged me, but teasing Deb…"

          Ironhorse leaned forward, his hands shifting to rest balled up on his hips.  "Blackwood did something to Debi?"

          Drake grinned.  "Now what was that about all of us being nice and working together?"

          Ironhorse ignored him.  "Explain, Mr. Drake."

          "Look, Harrison has this thing about practical jokes.  He's harmless, but it's a flaw in his character.  He just can't help himself."

          "And he pulled something on a child?"  Ironhorse pushed away from the countertop and began to pace.  "I'm going to have a talk with—"

          "Well, sort of.  Look, Colonel, it's no secret that Debi's, well, rather taken with you."

          That stopped the soldier mid-stride and he turned to face Norton, a rose red painting his cheeks and ears.  "I— I hadn't realized—"

          "That doesn't surprise me," the black man murmured.  "But Harrison did.  You know how she borrows your books?"

          "Yeah?" Ironhorse acknowledged, wondering if the explanation would shed light on the girl's odd behavior that morning.

          "Well, she also spends some time oohing and ahhing over your knickknacks."

          "So?"

          "So Harrison rigged up a little two way mike from the ol' supply cabinet and talked to her as the spirit of your ghost shirt."

          "Spirit of my ghost shirt?" Ironhorse echoed.  "There's no—"  he broke off.  "Never mind.  That's it?"

          Norton leaned back in his wheelchair and sighed.  "Not quite.  I guess you walked in on it, and Debi beat a hasty retreat, but she realized it was Blackwood and before he could explain she was already nuclear," Norton tossed up his hands to indicate the explanation was over.  "At least he wasn't making Indian noises."

          The black eyebrows rose.  " _Indian noises_ , Mr. Drake?"

          "Yeah, you know," Norton explained, raising his flat palm to his lips and blowing out an Ooh-ooh sound while tapping his lips.

          Ironhorse scowled.  "That's _not_ Indian noise, Mr. Drake, that's Hollywood."

          "Whatever, but I think he sort of scared Deb and excited her all at the same time.  You know how kids are about magic things.  But she didn't think it was too funny."

          "I don't blame her."

"She told Suzanne, who told me, and now I'm telling you.  The Doc's just going to have to accept the silent treatment for a while.  He can handle it."

          Ironhorse shook his head.  "Not possible, Mr. Drake.  We have to work _together_.  Even if he does act like a—"  Ironhorse cut the sentence off, refusing to allow his own anger to get in the way.  "I'll handle it."

          "This I hope I see."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The colonel found Suzanne in the living room, browsing through a microbiology journal.  She looked up briefly to see who was interrupting her peace and quiet, then went back to reading.  Ironhorse proceeded to the fireplace and quietly built up a small blaze.  When he finished, he took a seat in one of the wing-backed chairs and waited for Suzanne to finish the article she was on.

          A few minutes later she flipped the journal closed, stretched, and rubbed her eyes.

          "Interesting article?" Ironhorse asked amicably.

          "Humm," was the positive reply.  "At least it gave me a couple of ideas for a new approach to our bacteria problem."

          Ironhorse nodded.  "Good."

          The scientist stood and kneaded her lower back for a moment.  "I'm exhausted.  I think I'll call it an early night."

          Standing, the colonel halted the woman.  "Before you go, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

          "Can't it wait until morning?  I'm beat."

          "It's about Debi," Ironhorse said softly.

          That caught Suzanne's attention and she returned to her seat on the sofa.  "What about Debi?  Is something wrong?"

          "No, well, not exactly.  I was noticing the display at dinner, and—"

          Suzanne snorted derisively.  "That?  Well, let's just say that Harrison can be a—"

          "Jerk?  Sometimes?" the soldier finished for her.

          "Yeah," was the hesitant reply.  "But what—?"

          "I talked to Norton.  He told me what happened," Ironhorse explained, sitting down and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  "Look, Doctor, I agree it was a stupid thing to do, but don't you think you're being a little hard on the man?"

          Suzanne's eyebrows disappeared beneath the brown hair falling across her forehead.  "I never expected to hear you defending Harrison Blackwood, Colonel."

          Ironhorse leaned back with a sigh.  "I'm not defending him, Suzanne.  I'm simply trying to maintain an atmosphere where we can all work together.  What I saw tonight was not a good sign.  How are we going to protect each other in the field if you won't even pass the man a bowl of broccoli?"

          A slight blush colored the woman's cheeks.  "That's not the same thing," she replied defensively.  "But I see your point.  And I'll admit I'm probably over-reacting, but he really hurt Debi with that little stunt – not the least of it a result of her thinking you'd caught her being made the fool."

          Ironhorse nodded his understanding.  "But Blackwood was just playing, trying to get to know her better."

          Pulling her feet up on the couch, Suzanne tossed her hands up in a frustrated gesture.  "I know that, but try explaining it to an eleven-year-old who's suddenly found herself trapped in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by strangers – some stranger than others – and with no friends her own age.  Her father lied to her often enough to make Deb a little sensitive to _that_ kind of playing."

          "Granted, and Blackwood's got a ways to go before he even recognizes tact, but I think we need to get past this before it creates a problem that won't go away."

          Suzanne nodded.  "I know.  And I'm willing to forgive and forget… _if_ he apologizes and promises not to do it again."

          "And Debi?" the colonel questioned.

          Suzanne shrugged.  "She's got a mind of her own, Colonel.  She was humiliated and her feelings were hurt."

          Ironhorse looked thoughtful for a moment, a small crooked smile finally lifting the right side of his mouth.  "I'll have a talk with Debi," he said, standing.

          "Good luck."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The following evening Blackwood was only being skewered by the glare of the unforgiving eleven-year-old.  Norton watched the mighty astrophysicist try to sink down farther into his chair.  It was a sight to behold – and remember for later use.  Drake never could stay mad at the crazy scientist, and so it was that he found himself beginning to feel sorry for the man.  Even Suzanne was casting sympathetic looks in Harrison's direction, although he missed them in his steadfast attempt to avoid Debi's accusing blue eyes.

          Ironhorse was in a particularly good mood, the hacker noticed, ignoring the tension and carrying on an animated conversation with Mrs. Pennyworth concerning some of the better tea houses in London.  Not exactly what he'd expected, but then he was realizing there was a lot more to the colonel-mon than he'd been willing to admit.

          "…And my sister-in-law just sent me some wonderful cookies from Barkclay Downs," Mrs. Pennyworth told the colonel.  "Why don't all of you get comfortable in the living room and I'll bring them out with some of Mr. Drake's coffee?"

          "Wonderful idea," Ironhorse concurred.

          "If you don't mind, I think I'll—"

          Before Blackwood could ease himself out of the situation, the colonel clapped the man on the shoulder, saying, "Lead the way, Doctor.  Good idea.  We're in for a real treat."

With a baleful roll of his eyes, Blackwood allowed the colonel to steer him into the living room.  He could feel Debi's glower following him the entire way.  Slinking into one of the chairs, Blackwood crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to ward off the hostility.  He'd made a serious miscalculation and now he was paying the price.  He knew Debi was enthralled with the Special Forces officer and his Indian heritage.  What he hadn't realized was the serious nature that lurked beneath the perky blonde exterior.  Somehow he hadn't just tricked Debi, he'd offended her sense of who and what Ironhorse was, and that, in the girl's ledger of rights and wrongs, amounted to a cardinal sin.

          He should have known better.  He should have realized that you don't tease a pre-teen about something that they take seriously, and you certainly don't tease them about things that related to their latest crushes…  He sighed heavily and watched the colonel as he built up a small fire.  Ironhorse's blanket was already lying folded next to the hearth, and on it the large eagle feather he used to keep his hands busy when he told Debi stories about his people.  His spirits lifted unexpectedly.  They were in for a story.

          Blackwood watched the soldier closely.  Ironhorse, he realized, was setting the mood…  He glanced at Suzanne and Norton and received supportive small smiles in return.  What the devil was going on?

          Suzanne was curled into the corner of the couch, Norton having rolled Gertrude up alongside the same corner.  At the opposite end of the sofa, Debi sat, watching the astrophysicist.

          _No doubt contemplating various forms of Indian tortures that she'd like to see me suffer_ , Harrison thought.

          When Ironhorse finished with the fire, he took up the feather and sat down on the blanket.  Mrs. Pennyworth stalled any forthcoming story when she carried in the tray of coffee and cookies, along with a cup of coco for Debi.  Once the food and drinks were distributed, Debi scooted closer to her mother.

"Are you going to tell us a story, Colonel?" the girl asked hopefully.

          Ironhorse looked up with an amazingly real expression of surprise on his face.  "Well, Debi, I hadn't really thought about it…"

          "Please?" she implored with eleven-year-old aplomb.

          Ironhorse looked thoughtful for several moments, and Blackwood couldn't help but appreciate the consummate performance he was witnessing.  Now, if he could just figure out what it was all for…

          "Okay," the colonel announced.  "I have one for you."

          While the others sipped their coffee and munched on the cookies, Ironhorse slipped into the storyteller persona that Blackwood wished he understood better.  The colonel's voice was soft, but clear, and the cadence of the words set a beat like an echoing drum.

"In the small town where I grew up there was an old Creek woman who lived in a small cabin down by the river.  She was older than anyone else in the town, and there were some who said that she was as old as the river itself."

          "Wow, that's pretty old," Debi breathed, already falling under the colonel's spell.

          "Yes, it is, Debi.  And this old Creek woman was still living along the river when I was born, and, as I grew older, I heard the other kids saying that she was a witch."

          "A real witch?"

          Ironhorse nodded solemnly.  "They said she talked to the frogs, and that she had the power to turn children into frogs.  When she did, the children would disappear and their parents would never see them again."  He smiled at the girl, turned the eagle feather several times in his fingers and continued.  "The boys, while they were playing along the river, would see the old woman, and they did a very funny thing."

          "What's that?"

          "Deb," Suzanne said softly.  "Let the colonel tell his story."

          Debi sighed and pouted until Ironhorse picked up the tale again.  "You see, Debi, the boys were afraid of her, but they didn't want to admit that, so they'd try and act brave by throwing rocks and calling out names at the old woman.  Now they never tried to hit her, but they wanted her to know that they weren't afraid, even though they were."

          "What would she do?" Debi asked, then covered her mouth with her hand and looked guiltily at her mother.  Suzanne just shook her head and draped an arm around the girl's shoulders.

          "I'm glad you asked, Debi.  You see, she just ignored them.  She would continue along the river, talking to the frogs."  Ironhorse paused again, took a sip of his cool coffee and continued.  "When I was very young, I was home from school and out playing with my older brother and his friends.  We saw the old woman.  My brother and friends started teasing her.  I didn't think she looked all that scary, and I told them so.  My brother dared me to go up and talk to her.

          "Well, I wasn't sure she was that friendly, but they started teasing me, so I agreed to do it."

          Debi's blue eyes grew rounder.  "You talked to her?"

          Ironhorse nodded.  "I walked up and followed her and, sure enough, she was talking to the frogs.  She finally looked at me, and I said hello and kept going to see if she'd talk to me, too."

          "Did she?"

          "Debi."

          The colonel smiled at Suzanne.  "Not for a long time, but I was making quite an impression on my brother and his friends."  He gave Debi a conspiratorial wink.  "They were too scared to get that close…  I kept up with her until we got to her cabin and she stopped and asked my name.  I told her and she invited me to join her inside her cabin.

"Now, right about that time I was remembering all the stories I'd heard about little boys being turned into frogs, and I'll admit I was a little scared.  She left me standing in the front yard but came back with some blackberry tea and we sat down on her porch and drank it.

          "It took me nearly that whole glass of tea to work up the courage, but I finally asked her if she was really talking to the frogs, and she nodded.  'Of course I am,' she said.  'They tell me things I need to know.  Where the blackberries and cattails are ripe, when it's gonna rain, everything.  Don't you listen to the frogs?' she asked me.

          "I shook my head and told her that my brother said she turned little boys into frogs.  She laughed at me.  'There's plenty o' frogs without me makin' more.'

          "Now that made me feel a whole lot better, so I asked her how she learned to talk to the frogs.  'By listenin' to 'em,' she explained.  'You wanna learn?'

          "How could I pass _that_ up.  I'd really show my brother if I came home knowing how to talk to the frogs."

          Debi sat her empty coco cup down.  "And she taught you to understand frog language?"

          "Sort of," was the evasive reply.  Ironhorse paused to make a quick survey of his audience.  Even Blackwood was listening and enjoying the story.  Good, he was telling it as much for the astrophysicist as for Debi.  "She took me down to the riverbank and sat me down on a big flat rock.  'You hear the frogs?' she asked me.  I nodded.  'Well, you just sit and listen real hard, and pretty soon you'll hear what they're sayin'.'

          "Then she left me there and went back in her cabin.  I sat and listened as hard as I could.  And it wasn't easy, either.  There are lots of frogs and each one has their own voice.  There were toads, with real deep voices, and tree frogs that had high trills, and everything in-between.  By the time I had them all sorted out it was starting to get dark.  I knew I should go home, but I was getting close to understanding what they were really saying, so I stayed."

          "How long did you stay?" Debi asked, completely forgetting her mother's instructions.

          Ironhorse looked slightly guilty.  "I'm not really sure, but it was well after dark when I finally heard something."

          "You heard something?"

          "It was very faint at first, but after a while I could hear it plain as day."

          "What was it?"

          "My name," Ironhorse said succinctly, and twirled the eagle feather in his fingers.

          Debi pressed in closer to Suzanne, who was watching the colonel with nearly the same enjoyment as her daughter.  "The frogs were calling your name?" the girl breathed.

          Ironhorse took another sip of the now cold coffee.  "And it was getting louder, too.  I couldn't believe it, but I was very excited that I finally understood them."  The colonel took a breath and paused.  "At least I was until I heard what they had to say…  They told me my grandfather and my father were looking for me, and that my dad was pretty mad that I'd missed supper.  I was going to be in big trouble.  The frogs took great delight in telling me all the terrible things my father was going to do to me when I finally got home.  To say that I was getting a little scared is putting it mildly.  In fact, I was seriously considering going into that cabin and asking the old woman to turn _me_ into a frog so no one could find me.

          "I was so busy listening to what the frogs were telling me, and worrying about what was going to happen that I didn't hear my grandfather coming until he sat down beside me.

          "'What are you doin'?' he asked.  I told him I was listening to the frogs.  'Oh?  Have they said anything?'  They said my name, I told him.  'What else?' he asked, because he could tell that I was pretty upset.

          "I told him they knew that my father was mad and I was going to be in trouble when I got home.  I don't remember seeing that particular smile on my grandfather's face, except for a few times when he thought I had done something particularly Indian, but he had it that night."

          "Wow, so he knew the frogs could talk, too?"

          Ironhorse's black eyebrows rose.  "Not exactly.  He told me he didn't think it was the frogs that I'd heard talking.  But I just knew it was the frogs, and that they were right.  I explained how I'd been sitting there, listening for a long, long time, and I'd finally heard them call my name and then start talking."

          "What'd he say then?"

          Ironhorse smiled briefly.  "He stood up and we walked home, very slowly, and when we got there my mother was relieved to see me.  My father was gone, so I didn't get into trouble after all.  On the walk home grandfather had me tell him all about the frogs – the deep voices of the toads and the silly songs of the tree frogs and he was pleased that I'd heard all of them."

          "Did he convince you it wasn't the frogs talking?" Blackwood asked softly.

          Ironhorse glanced over his shoulder at the scientist.  "There was nothing he could tell me that would have convinced me it wasn't the frogs," Ironhorse admitted.

          Debi looked slightly confused.  "But was it?"

          Ironhorse turned a smile on the girl.  "When I thought back on it, those frogs did sound an awful lot like my brother and his friends."  He met the girl's gaze, her eyes sparkling in the firelight.  "But, a couple of days later my brother, his friends and I were down by the river playing pirates, and I heard a real deep-voiced toad that I thought I recognized, so I sat down on the river bank and listened and, sure enough, after a while I could hear the frogs singing that it was going to rain.  I told my brother, but he wouldn't believe me.  I went home."

          "And?" Suzanne prompted.

"And I was dry and drinking hot chocolate in front of the fireplace while he walked home in the rain."

          "So the frogs did talk to you!" Debi said triumphantly.

          Ironhorse's shoulder rose and fell in a shrug.  "When I was a little older, I realized that toad sounded a lot like my grandfather."

          "Ooooh," Debi moaned.  "You're just teasing me, too."

          "Not true," Ironhorse corrected.

          Blackwood leaned back in his chair, suddenly wishing he was invisible.

          "You see, even though my brother tricked me into thinking Icould hear the frogs, I did learn something important."

          "Like what?" the girl challenged, her face settling into what promised to be an extended pout.

          "Like that old Creek woman wasn't a mean old crazy witch.  She was really a medicine woman.  She knew all about herbs and how to treat sickness with them.  And maybe she _could_ hear the frogs talking to her, because she always knew when it was going to rain, and where the ripe blackberries were.  And, since I became her friend, I always got the first crack at those berries."

          Debi's blue eyes flickered to Blackwood.

          "And, I had learned all the different voices of the frogs.  Later, when I had to fight in the jungle, I learned to listen to the frogs there.  They'd shift their songs when someone entered their territory and they'd fall dead silent just before an attack.  Listening to those frogs saved my life."

          "At least _you_ learned something," she groused, still glaring at Harrison.  "Your brother was still mean."

          "I'm afraid that was just my brother.  It was his nature, but he had stayed out there, all that time, missing his dinner, too, making sure I wasn't turned into a frog.  That's not too mean."

          Debi's lower lip pressed out.  "I guess not.  But he scared you."

          Ironhorse nodded.  "You're absolutely right.  It wasn't very nice, but he didn't really mean any harm."  He grinned at the girl.  "I like to think I got even when he wouldn't listen to me about the rain.  And, after that, if I told him the frogs told me something, he believed me."

          "But you really wanted to understand the frogs, and it wasn't right that the old woman and your brother lied to you."

          "The old woman didn't lie, Debi," Ironhorse countered.  "She could hear them."

          "Yeah, well, _she_ was special."

          Blackwood squirmed.  "Debi," he said carefully, "I'm sorry about yesterday.  I didn't mean to scare you, or tease you, I was just—"

          "Playing?" Suzanne interrupted, and gave her daughter a squeeze.

Debi sighed.

          Blackwood nodded.  "I didn't have any brothers or sisters, so I guess I'm not very good at it…"  He looked up at the girl.  "But I really am sorry.  I didn't mean to upset you."

          Debi chewed her lip a minute before she met the astrophysicist's eyes squarely.  "Were you making fun of me?"

          "No," Blackwood stated emphatically.

          "Or Colonel Ironhorse?"

          The soldier's eyebrows peaked with surprise.

          "No," was Blackwood's quieter reply.

          Debi sighed heavily.  "I don't have any brother or sisters, either, so I guess it's okay."

          Blackwood's breath fell out in a thankful sigh.  "So," he tested hopefully, "we can be friends again?"

          Debi paused a moment, then nodded.  " _If_ you show me how you made the shirt talk."

          "Deal," Blackwood said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse leaned back into the winged-back chair and watched the flames playing across the top of the glowing log.  The Cottage was quiet, Debi and Suzanne having already retired for the night.  Mrs. Pennyworth was in the kitchen, getting everything ready for breakfast in the morning, Norton was working at the Cray, and Mr. Kensington was making his nightly walk down to the gates and back – for security reasons.  Only Harrison Blackwood was unaccounted for, which meant he was looking for the soldier.

          The colonel sipped his coffee and wondered how long it would take before Blackwood found him.

          "Colonel?"

          "In here," Ironhorse said, not bothering to turn the chair around to face the man.  "Something wrong, Doctor?"

          Harrison walked over and leaned against the mantel.  Gazing into the fire, he replied, "No.  I…"  He paused.  "I just wanted to say thank you."

          "You're welcome, Doctor."

          Blackwood paused a moment.  "It was really rather clever the way you arranged that.  I was impressed."

          Ironhorse smiled faintly.  "It was all true, Doctor.  I thought hearing it would get Debi to talk about the hostility she'd built up against you.  She's a good kid, and she has a big heart.  I figured she'd forgive you."

          A rosy blush colored Blackwood's cheeks.  "Glad to hear it, Colonel."

          "Not that she didn't have a damn good reason for being mad, that wasn't—"

          "I know.  I know."  Blackwood allowed himself to sink down and sit in front of the dying flames.  "Sometimes I screw up.  I admit it.  And this was one of my better efforts."

          The colonel managed to keep the smile off his face.  He hadn't expected to hear that from Dr. Harrison Blackwood.  "Just don't let it happen again or you'll be on your own, and I know who I'd put my money on."

          A soft chuckle shook Blackwood's shoulders.  "I completely agree, Colonel."  He looked up at Ironhorse.  "I think I made another mistake."

          "Oh?"

          "About you, Colonel."

          The black eyebrows climbed slightly, but he shook his head.  "I doubt it."

          "It takes a certain something to look into a child's soul, and draw it out."

          "Blackwood, we have a job to do.  I just want to make it as easy and smooth as possible," Ironhorse replied, his eyes suddenly finding the ebbing fire more interesting.  "The sooner we get it done the sooner I can get back to Delta Force."

          "Of course," Harrison said, a smile teasing his lips.  The last statement had lost a great deal of the punch he'd heard associated with it in the past.  Maybe he had underestimated the officer.  Ironhorse was still too rigid, too by-the-book for his taste, but there was potential under the military veneer.  A few more months in the company of civilians and the colonel might even be tolerable…  He shook his head.  "Oh, one other thing."

          "What now, Blackwood?" Ironhorse growled good-naturedly.

          "You used the past tense in regards to your brother…  I was just wondering…"

          "He died when I was thirteen," was the flat reply.

          "I'm sorry."

          Ironhorse shrugged.  "Thank you."

          Harrison pushed himself up.  "Well, I think I'll go grab a nap.  And whatever the reason, I do appreciate you mediating the armistice."

          "Good night, Doctor," Ironhorse said, standing as well and following the astrophysicist out of the room.  "By the way, Blackwood, what made you pick my ghost shirt for your little gag?"

          Blackwood grinned.  "It was the only thing big enough to hide the mike behind."


End file.
